


From Under the Gaze of the Moon

by thirstingdragon



Series: Feeling the Pull [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Biting, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Marking, Mentions of knotting, Public Sex, Scent Marking, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirstingdragon/pseuds/thirstingdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Performing on stage under the full moon always gets Louis' blood going. His wolf strains to be free, to run wild and howl to the wind. Most of the time he can rein it in on his own, but sometimes he needs a bit of help pulling himself back from the edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Under the Gaze of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> As always, many thanks for the best part of me, [ologist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ologist/pseuds/ologist), for the quick beta. Any remaining mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Also, [Jackie](http://gloobear.tumblr.com/), this is all your fault. I hope you're happy with yourself.

A low growl rumbles in Louis’ chest. He can’t stop it, it’s pulled out of him involuntarily. The sun is down now and the moon is full and high in the sky. He can feel the call of it and the need to howl his greeting in return. It crawls under his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

Instead of basking in the call, he tears his eyes from the sky to the sea of screaming faces in front of him. They can’t see him where he’s standing in the wings of the stage, but the wall of sound still beats into his chest like a drum. It’s an outdoor venue tonight which means the stage and the crowd are exposed to the mercy of the elements and the gaze of sky above. Louis loves performing under the moon. It feels wild and deep, completely uninhibited. It’s the closest thing he’s ever felt to being free without running through the forests at breakneck speeds, only stopping to howl a challenge for the wind to carry to any potential rivals.

They’re all side stage in a little alcove waiting for their cue to go on. There’s a problem with the switch over from their opener to their set, so the three minutes they were supposed to have until they went on is looking more like fifteen. The change in routine has put Louis on edge and the boys circled around him; hands on his shoulders and back, surrounding him. His wolf calms at the touch as he picks out their individual scents. _Liam. Niall. Zayn. Harry._ They all combine into _pack_ and _home_.

But the golden thread through it all is Harry’s. It’s a heady tease, both calming and invigorating his wolf at the same time. _Mate_ , it screams and it makes Louis want to bite, and mark. To pamper and protect. To _claim_. The thought of it - of bending Harry over, making him submit, claim him as Louis’ for all to see - calls to his wolf, making his vision go red at the edges. 

Louis’ growls ratchet up a notch, now audible to the rest of the boys above the noise of the crowd waiting for them, and Harry steps closer, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist from the behind. He bends down a bit to rest his chin on Louis’ shoulder, careful to keep Louis fully between him and the sea of _other_ in front of them. 

“Shh, it’s okay, love. Soon,” he whispers into Louis’ ear and nuzzling into his neck while rubbing light circles on Louis’ belly with the hand not holding his mic. They are safe here in the shadows, flanked by the rest of the boys, feet away from the furthest reaches of the stage lights. Hidden.

Harry’s words help temper his wolf and chase away the wildness inside him and he relaxes a bit. He’s still on a hair trigger, but it’s different now. Instead of wanting to rend and fight any who look at what is his - be it his territory, his pack, or his mate - he want’s to show them off. To say, “This is mine. They are mine. You can’t have them. I’m _biggerfasterstronger_ and I’ll destroy you if you challenge me.” It’s a rush being able to throw out that gauntlet and have it go unchallenged. Even if it’s to unknowing humans and not other weres. 

Giving his nose a break from the taste of excitement and anxiety in the air, Louis breaths in through his mouth, running his tongue over his eye teeth. The moon has made them sharpen a bit without him calling upon his wolf. Louis can feel his wolf simmering just below the surface. Rolling and beating against his cage for the chance to be free. To run. 

That can’t happen, Louis mustn’t allow it. Not yet, not here. But he knows what will tame his wolf for a little bit. It won’t last long, but it will at least be enough to get him through the show.

With a gentleness that belies the way his blood is thrumming through his veins, Louis detangles himself from the others and turns. As Harry’s hands slide from around Louis’ stomach to his back, Louis takes his microphone from his hand and passes it along with his own hands over to Niall who shakes his head and laughs and puts them in the pocket of his trousers - the curse of wearing the loosest ones in the group. Harry doesn’t allow that to stop his movements, though, and by the time that Louis has both his hands free, Harry’s hands have inched down and he tries to work them down the back of Louis’ pants before giving up to squeeze his arse in a bit of a tease.

“Want something?” Harry asks, an eyebrow raised, but his smile is light and open. He knows what’s coming and he’s not worried. He trust Louis.

“Yes. You.” The monosyllabic words are hard enough to say and that just confirms to Louis that he needs to do this. Otherwise, how is he supposed to get through a show that he’s supposed to sing if he can barely speak?

Zayn and Niall laugh as Louis pulls Harry away and he can all but feel Liam rolling his eyes at them, but they’re all used to what Louis’ like this time of the month and so it’s all in good fun. Louis can tell without looking backwards that they’ve already turn ‘round, keeping their eyes peeled for anyone who might be coming their way that Louis might not be able to hear over the roar of the waiting crowd.

Harry smiles at Louis and goes willingly when he’s marched backwards into the deeper shadows, between two stacks of empty gear containers. He’s always like putty in Louis’ hands, even when the moon is calling. He’s never afraid of what might happen, of the beast that crawls just below the surface. “I love you. I love your wolf. I could never be afraid of either of you,” he’ll whisper against Louis’ skin when they’re in bed under a mound of blankets and his doubts run wild with the waning of the moon. Then Harry will say it again, quieter and against Louis’ ear, making it flicker, his hand fisted in Louis’ tawny fur as they curl up on a blanket under the stars and moon after Louis’ finished running and chasing squirrels. 

Harry’s back meet black plastic and silver metal and he rubs his cheek against Louis’ scruff. He just shaved a couple hours ago, but it’s almost worthless around the full moon. It grows back almost as fast as he can remove it. It’s just another one of her marks upon him, showing that no matter how far Louis might travel, whatever he might do, Louis is still one of her children.

Louis presses his nose against Harry’s neck and breaths in the smell of his mate. He inhales deeper and notes the change in Harry’s scent. It goes from at ease and amused to shot through with lust and desire. The smell of it makes his wolf fight to break free, but in an entirely different way. Now, his wolf wants out to play. To show his mate how happy he can make him. 

“Need you,” Louis says, but it comes out guttural, more wolf-like then he intended. They don’t have long, a handful of minutes if they’re lucky, but it will be enough. It has to be.

Louis takes Harry’s wrists, and presses them against the road cases at Harry’s back. “Leave them there,” he says, using his own body to press Harry into the cases. Harry might be taller, but with the moon full in the sky, he has no chance at matching Louis’ strength. The thought makes Louis focus on his hands as he unbuttons Harry’s shirt. He doesn’t remove it all the way, just enough be able to push it to the side and reach the skin beneath. Even just partially undressing Harry, being pressed against him with the bulge in his pants pressing against Louis’ hip, sends a rush of pleasure down his own spine.

“Mine,” he presses into the skin and the ink outline of his sparrows. He loves Harry’s tattoos. Some of them are for him, for them. Not all, because as much as Harry is his, he’s also his own person, but enough are his that if Louis’ would was a cat, he’d never stop purring. As it is, he rubs and preens, happy that his mate is always marked. 

Harry’s nails are loud as they rake against the heavy plastic when his hands scramble against the cases. His hips are restless, moving in tight circles as he tries to seek relief by finding friction against Louis’ belly before Louis takes one hand and presses Harry back against the cases once again.

“Stay,” his voice is firm and he punctuates the command with a squeeze to Harry’s hip.

“But–” 

“No, do as I say, Hazza. Keep your hands where I left them.” The smell of Harry filling Louis nose pulls him from the edge, making speaking a bit easier. That’s good. Harry likes it when Louis uses his voice.

Any reply from Harry is cut off in a moan as Louis tests the skin of Harry’s collarbone with his teeth, careful not to break the skin. He starts at the curve of Harry’s shoulder and drags them along the thin skin and finishes with a nip where shoulder meets neck before he soothes away the pain with his tongue. Switching sides, he mirrors his actions, only this time he hesitates before licking away the sting of the bite, worrying at the skin and sucking, raising a red mark.

Harry bites back a whimper. “Don’t tease, Lou. Don’t have time,” Harry protests, trying once to roll his hips again to get some friction, but Louis’ hand on his hip is firm, keeping him in place with little effort, while the other teases his chest and rips in light touches making Harry gasp at the contrast between pain and pleasure.

“Hush. Let me take care of you,” Louis says, thumb rubbing against the bare skin on his hip, dipping below the waistband on his pants only to flit out again. “I got you.”

“Someone might see.” It’s said matter of factly, as if Harry doesn’t have a care in the world. Like if there weren’t thousands of people waiting for them in the stands and dozens more running around backstage and the only things keeping them from sight, are some cleverly placed cases, Louis’ heightened senses, and three teenage boys standing watch.

“I won’t let them,” Louis promises.

Harry nods, trusting in Louis to keep them safe and it makes Louis’ wolf prance in place. It doesn’t hurt that Louis can smell the spurt of precome leaking out of Harry’s dick at the chance that someone might see them. 

The thought of someone seeing Harry like this, right now, languid and wanting, makes Louis’ hackles rise. “Mine,” he asserts again. This time sealing it with a harsher bite to Harry’s chest, his hand flicking up to pinch at Harry’s nipple. 

Harry’s breath rushes from his chest. “Y-yours,” he agrees readily without hesitation.

That surrender was what Louis was waiting for. He releases Harry’s hip, fingers nimble and quick as he undoes both of their flies. He works Harry’s trousers down his arse a bit, asking, “How do you get into jeans this tight?” and pulls out his dick. The tip is wet and slick and he can’t help but smear the precome around the head. “Beautiful,” he whispers before kissing Harry. While his words are soft, his actions are not as he uses teeth and tongue, taking what he desires and relishes in the way that Harry falls into him completely. 

Pulling back for a breath, Louis raises his hand to Harry’s mouth. “Lick,” he orders, having to bite back his own moan when Harry does so, nipping at his palm before pulling his middle finger into his mouth and sucking. His cheeks hollow and his lips are pink from Louis’ kisses. “Brat,” Louis says with a smirk, but it makes him think about how if they weren’t due on stage at any moment, he’d get Harry on his knees and fuck his mouth before marking his face with come. 

It makes Louis feel inspired. Keeping his voice to just above as whisper, he says, “Going to fucking your face tonight. When we get back to the hotel room.” Spit-slicked, Louis takes his and Harry’s dicks in one hand while burying a hand in Harry’s hair. “Fist your hair just like this and pull you onto my dick until you gag.” He presses a kiss to Harry’s jaw that ends with a nip to his ear. “How does that sound?”

Harry’s reply is more physical than verbal. He opens his mouth, but when his lips move, the only thing that comes out is a strained hiss. His dick twitches in Louis hand as he strokes them steadily, adding a twist at the top that draws another spurt of precome from him. 

“What about if I had you on your back, and fucked your face that way?” Louis ask, his hand speeding up, but keeping his strokes even, drawing more delicious noises from Harry. “Made you take it for me. Mark you with my come. Would you let me do that?”

“Yes, please,” Harry gasps out in between pants. “Anything.”

“Those are brave words,” Louis says. “I’ll just have take you up on that.” Louis hides a smirk against Harry’s shoulder, sucking little marks that go pink before fading quickly, searching for a spot that calls to him. Every little pinch adds to Harry’s pleasure. Louis can smell it in the air, taste it on his skin, hear it in his heartbeat.

Finding the spot on Harry’s beautiful expanse of skin where he wants to leave his claim, he laves at the skin with his tongue. Teasing and tracing abstract designs, he can feel Harry coiling like a spring in anticipation, knowing what will happen next.

Harry aches his bares his neck for Louis, giving him full access. “Do it. Please.” He’s not above begging Louis for what he needs. He says it adds to the thrill. Knowing that whatever he asks for, Louis will give to him.

With a grin, Louis obliges, pressing his teeth into the rounded part of his shoulder above his 17 Black tattoo. He’s careful not to break the skin with his teeth. As much as he would love to leave a mating mark, they can’t afford too. Not only is his shirt white, but their bond means that it would scar, raising too many questions and calling too much attention from any other weres who might see it.

Instead, he alternates between bites and sucks, working the mark darker and darker until it’s purple. Harry moans in his grip, switching between squirming away and trying to press closer, unable to make up his mind between the pain-pleasure sensations. He thrusts into Louis’ fist, trying to get him to speed up his hand on their cocks, but Louis keeps his pace steady, knowing that it will drive Harry crazy and push him over the edge that much faster. 

When Louis has Harry breathless and gasping, he pulls back to inspect the bite. He see that in the low light it looks almost as black as Harry’s tattoos and a punch of satisfaction goes through his gut. “You look good wearing my marks,” he says and he can feel the way his wolf approves too, rumbling with pleasure in the back of his mind, wanting to rub against Harry and cover him further with their scent.

Soothing the mark with his tongue, he moves further up Harry’s neck, leaving one last love bite where he knows it will flirt with the edge of his collar. With the way that Harry moves about on stage, the shirt will go from gaping open to fluttering closed and his mark will be sitting there in perfect position. Hidden, yet not. Blatant but sly. Out of sight from the casual observer, but visible to any who would look at Harry and think that they deserved him as their own.

Smelling Harry getting closer, Louis opens his mouth against his ear, whispering with promise, “Can’t wait to get you in my bed. Mark you up. Claim you as mine. Do you think you can handle it, sweetheart? Me taking you over and over again. Making you come until you can’t anymore? Until you try and nothing comes out because I’ve wrung you dry? Can you do that for me?” He doesn’t even get to the end before Harry is pleading with him.

“Please,” he gasps. “Let me come.” His hands start to reach out to Louis before he remembers himself self and Louis’ command. He groans, and fists his hands at his sides once again, letting his head falling back against the cases.

Louis smirks, “Should I make you come on my knot?” His words are rewarded with a whimper that sounds like it’s pulled right out of Harry’s very soul. “Would you like that, being stretched around my knot, me locked inside you, while I fill you with my come?” They haven’t done that in a while, lacking the proper time and privacy, but now the thought is running through his head and for the first time in his life, he wants to say ‘fuck the show,’ throw Harry over his shoulder, and lock them away someplace where he can ravish his mate until both him and his wolf are satisfied.

“Fuck. Louis. _Please_ ,” Harry begs. Squeezing his eyes shut against the pleasure of Louis’ mouth, he’s shaking in Louis’ arms, so close to falling over the edge. 

“Yeah? Does that sound good? Do you love squirming on my dick, not being able to get away until I have you so full that you’re leaking my come?” He adds a twist to his strokes when he gets to the head of their dicks, smearing the precome that they’re both leaking in a steady stream.

Louis pets at his hair and kisses his lips gently, soothing the raw part where Harry’s bit at his lip trying to keep quiet. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Show me how much you love it when I take care of you.”

Harry’s eyes are unfocused, pupils blown so wide that there are just tiny rings of green around twin pools of black. “Close. Lou,” he breaths. “So close.” 

“Then do it. Let go. I know you want to. Come on.” Louis coaxes, speeding up his hand again, tightening his grip on both of them.

“Help. I need...” Harry trails off, lost in a daze of pleasure. “I–”

Louis moves his hand from Harry’s curls to rub at his side in long, comforting strokes. “Shh,” he says. “I got you.” He licks at the tender skin where Harry’s neck and shoulder meet one last time. The skin is a mottled pattern of bites. Louis finds one right over the knob of Harry’s collarbone and sets in his teeth. Not too hard, it’s already sensitive enough that even the graze of Louis’ teeth has Harry jumping. 

Just as Louis starts biting in ernest, Harry lets out a groan that could almost be mistaken for a wolf’s growl. It’s by far the loudest noise he’s let out since they’ve been in the shadows and if it weren’t for the sounds of the crowd still at their back, Louis would have to worry about someone overhearing it. 

Harry’s restless as he hurdles to the edge. His hands clench and relax by his sides where he’s trying so hard to be still like Louis asked. Harry moves as if he’s in slow motion, his back arches and he thrusts into Louis’ fist, eyes squeezing shut, before finally he comes with a shout, stripping come all over his belly, their cocks, and the back of Louis’ hand. 

Harry’s come slicking the way, Louis keeps jacking him through it. The combination of the scent of Harry’s orgasm and the feel of the slickness around his cock has Louis on edge and coming within a few thrusts. He does what he can to minimize the mess, cupping his hand over his cock as he shoots. 

After a few moments, it becomes too much and Louis takes his hand away from both of them. He’s face is intent as he takes his come-covered hand and rubs it into Harry’s skin. The fact that Harry’s going to be up on stage while covered in their come and combined scents calms Louis’ wolf even more than the orgasm and bites did, making him rub against the edges of Louis’ mind more like a puppy seeking attention than an alpha wolf in his prime.

“Silly,” Harry giggles. He lifts his arm, pushing some of his hair out of his face and wrinkling his nose. He’s ticklish now that he’s post-coital and Louis’ touch is making him twitch as his fingertips ghost over his skin. 

Louis flashes him a grin. “Quiet, you. Have to warn all the other weres away. You’re quite the catch, you know.” Now that his instincts have receded a bit, he feels like he has the brainpower to attempt being witty without embarrassing himself. 

“Cheers,” Harry snorts. “Just no pissing, yeah?”

“No pissing,” he promises before wagging his eyebrows. “Unless you’re into that kind of thing now.”

Harry laughs. “You wish.”

Louis kisses him, smiling through it. “Love you.”

Harry beams. “I love you too,” he replies, wrapping his arms around Louis and pulling him closer.

Louis lets their mingled scent wash over him, calming him down even further. Harry’s his drug and he can never get enough. They spend a moment, foreheads pressed together, exchanging breaths before a familiar voice cuts into their little sanctuary. 

It’s Niall. “Are you two done?” he asks. “I swears, every month it’s like you turn into a bitch in heat.” There’s half a beat before Niall realizes what he said and the sounds of raucous laughter breaks out from behind them.

“Sorry, can’t help it, he just smells too good,” Louis retorts, looking over his shoulder at the others who still have their backs to him and Harry, keeping an eye out for anyone who might wander where they’re not supposed to be.

At Louis’ words, Harry blushes and tucks his head against Louis’ neck again. He’s too tall for this, but he’s always so cuddly after he’s come and Louis just wants to take him to bed and worship him like his mate deserves. 

“Toss me that towel, yeah?” Louis ask, spying one of the towels they keep just in case they want to mop up some of their sweat while they’re on stage.

Zayn tosses it to him and he wipes off what he wasn’t able to rub into Harry’s skin before tucking them both back into their pants. Harry just stands there, leaning against Louis shoulder, half gone. “Come on, love.” Louis says fondly. “We have a show to put on.”

“I thought we just did that, though?” Harry says cheekily.

“Nope!” interrupts Liam. “No show at all. Have no idea what you two were doing. None.” He protests, but his beet red face shows the truth. “Now, you guys ready? I think Dave’s about to come over to give us the go ahead.”

Harry groans at the loss when Louis steps back runs his eyes over both himself and Harry. While, he’s not going to be tucking in his shirt and Harry’s is a unbuttoned a little more than normal, they look respectful enough to go on stage. Well, respectable enough for a One Direction show that is. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Harry’s starting to come back into himself. The adrenaline of a show winning over the post orgasm stupor. “Yeah,” he smiles at Louis big and open and happy. “We are.”

“Oi, love birds. Dial it down before you make me retch.” Niall jokes, shooting them an impish grin.

Harry grabs the dirty towel from Louis’ hand and pitches it at Niall’s face. Letting loose a shriek of indignity, Niall goes to chase Harry, but he dodges around the other boy and starts towards onto the stage before he can catch him. 

Louis looks at Zayn who’s laughing like a buffoon and Liam who’s rolling his eyes in exasperation but looks happy that he doesn’t have to play sex-lookout anymore - not that he really minds, Liam would do anything for his bandmates, it’s just the principle of it all - and makes like he’s about to do a jig onto stage. “Shall we boys?”

They laugh and move into position, flanking Harry and Niall who hands them back their mics, and they get ready for their cue. Louis smiles and looks at them, his wolf is lazy in contentedness and security, the pull full moon not enough to rouse him without provocation.

Feeling in control and free, Louis steps out into the spotlight with his mate and his pack beside him and the moon greeting him from above him. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are always welcome! If you prefer, you can always drop me a line at my [tumblr](http://thirstingdragon.tumblr.com/).


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